


Quarantined

by astudyinfic



Category: Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Genre: M/M, Meet-Cute, Neighbors, New Partners, Not Beta Read, Ty can sing, Zane can paint, but not together - Freeform, quarantined
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23291275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinfic/pseuds/astudyinfic
Summary: Zane couldn't believe his luck, getting to Baltimore the day the order went out to stay where you were until further notice.He would be a lot more annoyed, however, if it wasn't for his neighbor with the angelic voice.  He almost made the quarantine enjoyable.
Relationships: Zane Garrett/Ty Grady
Comments: 18
Kudos: 33





	Quarantined

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me for this. My brain is stuck in "plague panic" mode so this is what came of it.

After three days, Zane was about to commit a federal crime just to have an excuse to leave the house. He knew there was a good reason they’d all been asked to remain in their home, but in practice, it was harder to do than he cared to admit. He was thankful for the nice weather that allowed him to run every morning and avoid the other people attempting to venture out into an unsettled world. Then he returned home, threw open all the windows, and tried to pretend that he wasn’t in the same space he’d spent the last three days. 

Three days? Had it really only been that long? It seemed so much longer. 

Being new in Baltimore, it was a shock when the quarantine order came through. He hadn’t even checked in with the local field office yet, having arrived a few days early to settle in and get his apartment in order. Now it was the neatest place he’d ever lived, without a box in sight, and he desperately wanted to go to work. 

Only, he was still stuck here. 

Thankful for his past insight to pack his old painting supplies, Zane set up the easel by the window, determined to do something that would keep his mind occupied for a few hours. But what should he paint? It had been so long that it felt as if his inspiration was all dried up. 

He stared at the blank white canvas in front of him, wracking his mind for any sort of inspiration. It eventually came to him, from an unexpected source. 

Someone outside, probably in one of the neighboring buildings was singing. A common enough occurrence in Miami, where most of the people around him were too drunk to think of social propriety, but not something he’d found in more straight-laced Baltimore. 

More than that. The person singing was good. Really good. Zane found himself leaning towards the window to catch the man’s voice. It was deep and rich, carried across the open space and brick facade without losing any of the warmth. To his surprise, it nearly brought tears to Zane’s eyes. He never knew the phrase “moved to tears” was literal and yet, here he was. 

The voice only sang one song and then vanished. But the one song was enough. With the light shining in through the window, Zane started painting. 

Zane didn’t know where the man with the heavenly voice was, didn’t know if the man was trapped and bored or unwinding after what was likely a stressful day at work. If Zane had even managed to check in with the field office before this all hit, he would probably be working. As it was, he had been told to sit at home and wait for the shelter in place order to be lifted. 

He pictured the singer as he painted, imagining someone rather like the man from New Orleans. The voice was similar and stirred something deep inside him just like that performer once had. It had been years since Zane thought of him and one song brought all those thoughts back to the forefront. His painting turned into something dark and mysterious, with a playful undertone that reminded Zane as much of the singer as the song did.

Zane didn’t know where the singer was, but he had to be fairly close, either in the same building or the one next door. On the off chance that he was next door, Zane put the finished picture in his window, hoping to offer something to the man who’d inspired the painting and to the world in general.

A couple of days later, when he started to go stir crazy once more, Zane was surprised to hear the singer again. It was a different song, one he didn’t recognize but that voice was unforgettable. He opened all the windows and let the voice fill his home. Once more inspired to paint, Zane sat at his easel and let the music guide his brush. The singer sang several tunes this time, lasting for almost an hour and Zane pictured the faceless man doing chores around his home, or working out, or just listening to music and singing along with his favorite radio station. It was domestic and beautiful and Zane’s heart ached at the thought of it. He used that bittersweet warmth to color the painting this time, a painting he put in the window the next day. 

It continued on like that for a week. Every few days, the man would sing again and Zane would paint. Sometimes they were bright and happy and abstract splashes of color. Other times they were dark and sad and claustrophobic. The man’s songs seemed to represent Zane’s mood in an almost uncanny way. Or maybe his mood was influenced by the song. He wasn’t sure. 

When the spring days grew warmer still, Zane took to spending more time on his porch. It overlooked the small street and the building across from him that was so close he could have hit it with a rock if he had one to throw. Anxious to do something work-related, despite being stuck at home and not even knowing anyone he worked with yet, Zane called into the office to talk to ASAIC McCoy. The man gave him the number of his new partner. “Call him. See if you can talk him down off the ledge. He’s in quarantine too and knowing him as I do, he’s probably already driving his entire neighborhood mad.”

Zane frowned, not sure what to make of that but this was the first work he’d had in weeks and he wasn’t about to say no. He dialed the number, not surprised when a gruff voice answered. “Grady.”

“Special Agent Ty Grady?” Zane asked though he doubted he would have had the kind of luck to misdial and still get someone with the same last name. “I’m Zane Garrett. I’m your new partner if they ever let me out of my apartment.”

“You too? What’d you do to get locked up?”

Zane chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Got to Baltimore at the wrong time. Another day in either direction and I would be working right now. You?”

“Got shot, was recovering and now am stuck here until this all blows over.” There was a weird echo in the phone and Zane pulled it away from his ear as if he could see the bad connection if there was one. Ty continued to talk and the tinny voice sounded from the phone and an echoing deep voice sounded across the street. 

Glancing over at the other building, he saw another man standing on his balcony, holding his phone and chatting away. He was...gorgeous. There was no other word for it. Strong and muscular, he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. Rugged face made even more so by several days of scruff. Zane’s mouth went dry at the sight. He couldn’t be that lucky, could he?

“Garrett? Are you even listening?”

Zane cleared his throat and nodded, forgetting Ty couldn’t see him. Or didn’t know he could see him. “Grady, any chance you live on Concord street?”

“Yes.” Ty was suddenly guarded and the man across the street started looking around. When their eyes met, Zane smiled at him and offered a little wave. “Fuck! You’re Painting guy!”

“Painting? Guy?” Ty laughed and pointed to Zane’s right. He glanced over and saw his own painting in the window. “Oh, right. Yeah, someone’s been singing and I keep getting inspired.” Ty went quiet for a minute and Zane glanced at him. Even from the distance, he could see the telltale signs of embarrassment. “Grady? Do you sing?”

Ty cleared his throat. “Maybe.”

“When all this is over, can I hear you sing in person?”

“Will you paint for me?”

Laughing, Zane nodded. “With a voice like yours, I’d be happy to paint ON you if you wanted.” The words came out before he could stop them and it was his turn to be embarrassed. 

“That was the worst come-on I’ve ever heard, Garrett. Lucky for you, I’m easy. When this is over, it’s a date.”

Zane grinned at him and nodded. “It’s a date.”

This was his work partner. Getting involved was a terrible idea. But Zane Garrett was the undisputed king of bad ideas. This was just one more in a long line. And for once, he thought this one might end up being his best idea yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://astudyinfic.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/astudyinfic)
> 
> Also, we made a [Cut & Run discord channel](https://discord.gg/KFfErkb) if anyone is interested in joining and yelling at us about the books we all love.


End file.
